


we are not shining stars

by russianpotatofarm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Homosexual Awakening, M/M, Volleyball, ahaha who knows its iwaoi lets go, duh - Freeform, i mean its iwaoi, iwaizumi beats oikawa to DEATH with a pillow rip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 07:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3479201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russianpotatofarm/pseuds/russianpotatofarm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>20 Day Theme Challenge prompt 1: "your arms around me."<br/>Oikawa Tooru relies too heavily on volleyball instead of actual human beings and ends up finding himself via bad spikes, gay panics, and trying not to cry. #nobodysperfect</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are not shining stars

_you swore and said "we are_  
_we are not shining stars"_  
_this i know_  
_but i never said we are_

 

Tooru doesn’t know when he goes gay for his ace, mostly because it’s hard to pinpoint something he never knew possible.

But he knows when he realizes it, because it’s just unsettling enough to take note.

He is fluttering a piece of paper at Iwaizumi- _clu_ _b signups! Ready to go for tennis yet?_ and ducking the punch thrown at him. He knows from far too much experience that it really hurts when they land, and that Iwaizumi knows that too. He is shoving the form at Iwaizumi, expecting him to groan and insult him like he always does. It’s not something new, by any means. Some variation of this event happens every ten minutes or so.

He’s thinking it’s a wonder Iwaizumi puts up with him.

Iwaizumi shifts his backpack onto his shoulder and gives Tooru a very slight smile.

“Why wouldn’t I sign up, dumbass?” he says. “What else am I going to do?” He flicks Tooru’s forehead. “Go to class.”

Iwaizumi turns and leaves.

Tooru stays standing in the hallway, blinks, and sprints down the hall after him.

He knows that if there was anything there, he squashed it like a bug when he ran after Iwaizumi yelling about _what does that mean and why can’t you just say anything straight out do you not trust me is this about your parents and OH MY GOD, IWA-CHAN, do you even have parents?_

He gets more than a flick to the forehead this time.

This seems to scare Iwaizumi off anything out of the ordinary for a while. Tooru doesn’t know why it seemed out of the ordinary to begin with, but he felt such a strong urge to analyze it and try to figure out any kind of subtext that he makes it so. At practice later, he finds himself desperate enough to consider asking the girls outside the gym if they have any wisdom to offer.

He leaves out asking his teammates, because he can guarantee that none of them have any gift with social interaction. He’d _much_ rather ask the girls than Matsukawa. He works to keep personal life far, far away from the volleyball team.

As far as they can be separated, anyways.

All that aside, he forgets about it pretty fast. The next day, Iwaizumi shows up at his house like normal, and he punches Tooru just as hard. Tooru protests just as loud, Iwaizumi drags him away from the girls just as fast. Nothing is out of the ordinary, which just convinces Tooru further that it really didn’t matter, in the end. Sometimes friends express physical expression. They don’t usually panic about it, but that might be a necessary side effect for Tooru.

His hands don’t shake when he serves the ball. Iwaizumi doesn’t look at him when the shirt of his uniform rides up as he jumps. No one has a scandalous confession in the shed when they’re putting the volleyballs away. Iwaizumi still gets mad when Tooru tries to stay long after practice.

His life, thankfully, is not a shojo manga, just yet.

Two weeks later, Tooru tries to spike a volleyball into the cart after practice. He trips, almost over a mop, and Iwaizumi catches his waist to steady him.

Tooru is grateful, first of all, because dive-bombing into the ball cart and getting a black eye isn’t something he wants to explain to his mother- she worries enough as it is. On the other hand, Iwaizumi is definitely not letting go of him, and instead he’s holding him as Tooru is dipped downwards.

Kind of close to his chest, really.

“Uh-” Tooru starts, but Iwaizumi rights him and puts him back on his feet. After a momentary glare, he brushes off his hands and turns his back on Tooru.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot,” he says, taking a broom from the storage closet nearby. “You’re a setter for a reason. Leave the spiking to me.”

“You always want the spotlight, Iwa-chan,” Tooru retorts, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s laughing just high enough that it _could_ be a giggle, were he a lesser man.

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi says, near-scrubbing the broom on the floor at a spot Tooru certainly can’t see. “None of us will have it if we don’t get done cleaning soon.”

Tooru shrugs, only realizing Iwaizumi can’t see it after he does so. “We could practice more, and then finish cleaning.”

He fishes one of the volleyballs out, bounces it over to Iwaizumi. When Iwaizumi looks up, his eyebrows are raised.

“C’mon. More practice can’t hurt.” Tooru smiles at him, wide. He knows it won’t convince him of anything.

Iwaizumi almost squints at him, then rests the broom against a wall.

“Other side of the net,” he says.

Tooru nods.

Tooru knows that Iwaizumi isn’t about to go anywhere. Tooru is more of a flight risk than he’ll ever be, and that’s without the emotional instability. The only two things Tooru has stuck with this long are volleyball and Iwaizumi, and the latter is the only one that he’s never doubted. Iwaizumi has had plenty of time to jump ship already.

His thoughts aren’t linear this late at night.

Tooru doesn’t ask Iwaizumi for advice, and Iwaizumi doesn’t give it to him. Instead, he tells him things, and he still doesn’t need to ask him not to tell anyone.

He doesn’t know who Iwaizumi would tell, anyway.

He tells him that he is thinking of quitting volleyball, and Iwaizumi sets the ball into his head.

“You pulled me into this,” Iwaizumi says. “You got us both stuck here.”

“I’m sorry,” Tooru says.

He means it, which is enough to warrant a government shutdown most days. The last time he remembers sincerely apologizing was when he threw sand in a girl’s eyes in elementary school.

Iwaizumi either isn’t listening, or doesn’t care.

“We haven’t even gone to preliminaries yet. What would the team say?”

Tooru shrugs.

“Stay on the team, Tooru.” Iwaizumi picks up the ball he threw. “You’re not going to love it all the time.”

“I don’t love it most of the time.”

Iwaizumi pats him on the back. “Find something you do.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you?” Iwaizumi hands him the ball. “If you only ever did what you want to, nothing would ever get done.”

Tooru looks at his shoes. He feels young, and stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“You didn’t do anything,” Iwaizumi says.

He ruffles Tooru’s hair, but it’s more like rubbing with force. It strikes Tooru that even if he’s awkward, it’s the right kind of awkward.

He throws him the ball.

They don’t win the preliminaries. Tooru doesn’t know why he’s surprised. He believed he could make it, sure, but he’s learning that doesn’t mean much.

They pack up and go home. It seems like very, very little made out of something that feels huge and deafening, to Tooru.

Iwaizumi sits next to him on the bus home. Tooru doesn’t cry, but he puts his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder until he doesn’t think he might anymore. He falls asleep that way, and Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything when he wakes up.

It gets better after that. Iwaizumi still doesn’t look at him more than normal, and they still walk home together. There are so many stills that it feels like maybe they never lost, maybe they’re going to go back to practice and the coach will yell at them until they have no choice but to win. Tooru is still too afraid of fucking up, for example. Tooru still doesn’t know when he actually is, unless there’s a scoreboard and an opposing team yelling _chance ball!_

Iwaizumi slings his backpack at Tooru’s head when he teases him too much. Iwaizumi stays the night, sleeping on the couch, and Tooru stays quiet in case he can hear his breathing. Iwaizumi borrows his clothes, disgusted when Tooru throws him a shirt with an alien’s face and English that Tooru doesn’t understand.

Iwaizumi is everywhere he used to be, and it feels like more than usual. Tooru starts wondering if maybe he was the one making it awkward all this time.

When Tooru realizes that he was the one making it awkward, he feels like slamming his head into a wall.

That, and apologizing to Iwaizumi again. If anyone deserves it, it’s him.

He calls Iwaizumi to tell him, at 20:00 on a Sunday evening, which really isn’t that late in his opinion. Nevertheless, Iwaizumi swears at him when he answers.

“Calm _down_ , Iwa-chan,” Tooru berates him, sitting on the edge of his bed. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being a huge prick.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “That’s nothing new, dumbass, but apology accepted. Is your homework done?”

He leaves it be after that. In a stunning role reversal, Tooru follows his lead.

Tooru doesn’t apologize again, but when they walk home two days later, he invites Iwaizumi inside. After he finishes demanding to know _why you’re even asking, I stay at your house almost every day, were you planning on kicking me out?_ he graciously accepts. Tooru holds the door open for him.

This is a bad plan. Really, it is.

They both dump their bags in Tooru’s room, and Iwaizumi pulls out his desk chair. He makes a face- a few days ago, Tooru spilled soda on it, and he still hasn’t bothered to clean it up. When Iwaizumi stares at him in question, Tooru shrugs. He has a busy, taxing life. The small things are of little note to him.

Iwaizumi pushes the chair back in and sits on the carpet.

“Do you want something to drink?” Tooru asks.

Iwazumi stares again. “You never offer me anything.”

“Ha, well. Maybe I feel nice!” He smiles, but judging by Iwaizumi’s concerned frown, he isn’t charmed.

“Are you sick?”

“No!” Tooru waves his hands at him, then decides it’d be better to have a shield from the world. He covers his eyes. “I’m great, really.”

“You look like you’re going to puke.”

“That’s vulgar, Iwa-chan.”

But he’s right. Tooru already made it weird. It might be even weirder if he doesn’t go ahead and make it weirder.

He’s not at his best.

“So, it’s probably going to be kind of strange?” Iwaizumi looks at him with a certain amount of exasperation. “More strange. But, uh.” He swallows. This is how he will die. “I really like you, Iwa-chan.”

“Wow. You do have feelings.”

Tooru makes a loud, wailing noise into his hands. “Not like that! In…” He really doesn’t know how to phrase it, except for _in the GAYEST way possible take me now Iwa-chan!~_ and that’s not how he wants this to go. At all.

“In a gay way,” Iwaizumi finishes.

It can’t be said that it was his fault. Tooru tried. He had the purest intentions.

“If you wanna put it like that, yeah.”

Iwaizumi snorts. “Is that supposed to be news?”

“Kind of.” Tooru slips from the bed’s edge to the floor. “Ugh, this is a lot worse than it was supposed to be.”

“Did you plan this?”

“All the great artists plan their- god _damnit_ , Iwaizumi!” Iwaizumi smacks him with a pillow. “That’s violent!”

“I don’t care if you want to confess. Just keep that out of it.” Iwaizumi sets the pillow down.

“You’re not really surprised,” Tooru notes.

“Am I supposed to be?”

“We already talked about this.” Tooru looks up at him. “So?”

Iwaizumi moves over, closer to him. Tooru doesn’t know if that’s worse or better.

“Uh,” Iwaizumi says.

“Hm,” Tooru answers.

Iwaizumi kisses him.

It’s not unlike kissing a girl, at first. There’s the split second of _wait shit what happened_ before Tooru remembers that this is something he’s good it (if it wasn’t kind of gross, he’d compare it to a service ace, but he tried that once and it really, really didn’t go over well). But Iwaizumi’s mouth is kind of chapped and very _boy_ tasting, unlike most of the fruity chapstick Tooru is used to. Iwaizumi is stronger, too, stronger even that some of the girls on the other sports teams, and it’s not scary but. Well. It’s different.

Iwaizumi doesn’t really move. Tooru does it for him, getting as close as he can to Iwaizumi before someone gets an elbow to the chest. He’s almost in his lap, which is not a bad place to be, when he decides he’s satisfied.

Tooru doesn’t know this part of Iwaizumi. He didn’t know it existed.

Iwaizumi pulls away from him, hands behind his back, bracing his and some of Tooru’s weight.

“Okay?” he says.

Tooru nods.

This time, he asks. “Again?” he says, and Iwaizumi is the one to nod.

Iwaizumi isn’t smiling, but he isn’t frowning, and this is more than Tooru normally gets. He’s pressed up to him, hand on Iwaizumi’s elbow now, and tongue moving over his mouth, mostly arbitrarily. Kissing Iwaizumi, he is finding, is just nice. Not hot, when both of them are still in their practice clothes and kind of confused, but nice. More so when Iwaizumi opens his mouth and tries to do a _thing_ with his tongue, but Tooru is laughing too hard to let him. Iwaizumi shoves him off, but he’s smiling, more than Tooru has seen since they were little kids and Tooru still threw sand at little girls and said he was sorry.

Iwaizumi doesn’t beat him with a pillow this time, thankfully. Iwaizumi bear-hugs him on the floor, ignoring Tooru when he whines _you'_ _re crushing me, fatass_ , and it’s not nearly as weird as Tooru was worried it would be.

Still weird, of course. It’s going to be weird. But less of a bad, possibly-about-to-vomit weird and more of a _god damnit Oikawa you’re going to knock me out watch where your knees are going_ weird.

It’s just good.

Tooru starts going to volleyball practice without feeling like he’s letting someone down. He stops not-crying on the busses back from games because there must have been _something_ he could have done better. Iwaizumi lets him call him _Iwa-chan_ and _Hajime_ without threatening to stick him in the trash where he belongs. When they stay late after practice, it’s because of one more thing Tooru wants to try, and not because he can’t go home feeling like he’ll never be good enough.

Everything changes again, basically.

He doesn’t know how to tell Iwaizumi a lot of things. He doesn’t know when he should, most of the time. Tooru knows, by now, that he talks a lot but says very little of what he wants to. Iwaizumi knows, too, but he doesn’t say anything. Some days Tooru worries that it’s because he doesn’t let him, but that kind of power isn’t anyone’s. He doubts he could really make Iwaizumi do anything.

But he is still there. Iwaizumi hasn’t left yet. Tooru never appreciated that enough.

A week after Tooru manages to screw up a simple confession, Iwaizumi invites him to stay the night. They huddle under the cover together, Tooru’s head on Iwaizumi’s arm, Iwaizumi telling him he’s going to make his limbs numb, and the window they forgot to close blowing in air too cold for them to really get comfortable.

Tooru sleeps poorly that night, but he feels better in the morning than he can ever remember.

 

_close the door, hold the phone_   
_show me how no one's ever gonna stop us now_   
_because here we are_   
_and we are shining stars_

**Author's Note:**

> now updated with the correct italics! i cant format  
> if you read this tysm first of all unless you're lilly  
> this wasn't really what i had planned?? what happened  
> title and lyrics from the fun. song carry on which is rly?? good and rly iwaoi  
> yeah! thanks for reading! first hq fic but since im stuck in iwaoi hell it wont be the last!


End file.
